


i'm gonna stand by you

by thewonderzebra



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 12:23:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewonderzebra/pseuds/thewonderzebra
Summary: Brad and Patrice get sent to the penalty box together over Brad being protective. Patrice wants to show his appreciation for Brad protecting him.





	i'm gonna stand by you

**Author's Note:**

> For Therese (@kingkytchalla/@davidpastrnut on Tumblr), who asked me to write this fic after the Boston vs. Dallas game the other night in which Bergy took a lot of hits and Marchy was getting pissed off. Enjoy!

Brad is convinced that something has to be wrong with the universe…either that or with him. This is the only explanation for why, every time Brad looks away from the puck, he sees Patrice being attacked. He knows Patrice can handle himself. He does. But, he has a cardinal rule: if anyone messes with his siblings or Patrice Bergeron, he will throw his own hands in retaliation. It is because of this rule (and because it is the love of his life under constant attack) that Brad finds himself accruing several penalties for fighting over the course of the game.

He curses his way to the penalty box, his fists clenching and unclenching reflexively. As he does every time he obtains a penalty, he blocks out the arena surrounding him—especially if he is not on home ice. He can’t stand to see his younger teammates staring at him with betrayed eyes, can’t stand seeing his coaches shake their heads, can’t stand hearing the crowd around him jeering. He blocks everything out until the penalty passes and he can be back on the ice. Tonight, this strategy works so well that he doesn’t notice that someone else is headed to the penalty box as well. 

Sliding onto the bench inside the small glass box, Brad unbuckles his helmet and glares furiously at the ground, irritated that he’s being punished over other people hurting his other half. He fights the urge to roll his eyes as his name and the nature of the penalty is called overhead, and withdraws into his own furious thoughts. That is, until he feels something bump up against his knee. 

Startled, Brad looks up, and finds an exhausted-looking Patrice waiting to meet his gaze. In the moment, the left winger is fairly certain his jaw drops farther than is natural for the human body. Of all sights he expected to see, this one is low on the list. 

“Bergy?” Brad asks. “What are you doing in here?”

Patrice looks mildly affronted by the question, but his answer is as even and patient as ever. “Fighting, same as you, ange,” he replies. “Although you have a longer ‘sentence’ than I do.” Patrice winks, though his smile falters just a bit. 

Brad tries not to read too much into Patrice’s wavering smile. “I know that,” the left winger says. “I don’t mean why are you in here like why are you in here. I mean why are you in here, like how could anyone punish you? First of all you’re the victim…you keep getting beat up by these idiots. Second of all, you’re Saint Patrice. They can’t just punish you.”

Patrice chuckles, just barely loud enough to be heard, and shakes his head. “You know how the rules go, mon amour,” he says. “I was involved, so I’m in the penalty box.”

At this point, Brad is ready to stomp and yell. “But you’re HURT, Patrice!” he says, ignoring the shock that passes over his other half’s face. “I saw you get slammed into the boards. Repeatedly. That’s why I kept hitting people back; that shit’s illegal! You shouldn’t be punished for that.”

Patrice reaches over and pats Brad’s thigh gently, giving his love a sympathetic look. “It’s alright, Marchy,” he soothes. “At least I get a break in here with you. And, I get a chance to thank you.” He grabs Brad’s hand for a brief moment, and squeezes gently.

“Thank me?” Brad looks genuinely taken aback by the statement. “What are you thanking me for?”

Again, Patrice laughs softly as he fixes Brad with an affectionate gaze. “For not being afraid of jumping into the middle of fights. For not being afraid of the consequences. But, most importantly, thank you for standing up for me. It means the world to me that you have my back." 

Though already flushed from playing and from trying to catch his breath, Brad somehow manages to flush a deeper red at Patrice’s words. “I’ll always jump into fights when it comes to you, Bergy,” he murmurs. “I’m your other half…it’s my job to have your back, and I always will. You don’t need to thank me for that.”

A moment passes where their eyes meet, and they smile shyly at one another. Patrice reaches for Brad’s hand again, trying to disguise the action from the prying eyes of the crowd surrounding the penalty box. “I wish we weren’t surrounded by people,” Patrice says. “Because I really want to kiss you right now.” 

In an instant, Brad’s smile changes from shy to positively cocky. Before he has a chance to reply, though, the clock runs out on the penalty, and both he and Patrice are sent back onto the ice. Patrice gives Brad a look that screams ‘to be continued’, and tries to hold himself upright as he skates carefully back to the Bruins’ bench. Brad does his best to keep his fussing to a minimum in favor of finishing the game and trying to salvage a point, though he remains on guard in case he needs to get between flying fists and his love once more.

****

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Brad asks as he helps Patrice apply bags of ice to his bruises when they are settled in their hotel room. He watches Patrice shift uncomfortably at the cold, and tries to soothe him wordlessly by running a hand through Patrice’s hair and kissing his temple. Brad sees how bruised and sore Patrice’s body is, and he hates it. 

Patrice shrugs in response to Brad’s question. “I don’t know,” he sighs. “I want to stay with you and the team, but things hurt more than I would like them to. In reality, I should fly back to Boston in the morning and get evaluated, just to be safe.” 

Brad flops listlessly onto the bed beside Patrice—in true dramatic fashion. Of course, he is thrilled that Patrice is deciding not to be stubborn and play with a potentially serious injury. But he is also upset, because he wants Patrice with him, and he partially blames himself for his other half being injured at all. 

“God, I’m sorry, Bergy,” Brad says, looking hesitantly over at Patrice. “I should have seen the hits coming. I should have jumped in sooner, and you’re hurt because I didn’t.”

Patrice looks truly taken aback at Brad’s words, and instinctively reaches over to pull Brad close. Naturally, Brad tucks himself into Patrice’s side. “It’s not your fault, Marchy,” Patrice promises. “You did far more to protect me than I ever would have asked of you. You had my back, and you stepped in before the hits got any worse. I’m just sorry you got penalized for protecting me.” 

Brad doesn’t understand why he suddenly feels emotional, but he does his best to fight back the tears welling in his eyes. He presses a tender kiss to the underside of Patrice’s jaw, doing his best not to jostle him. “It’s a penalty I’m happy to take,” he murmurs. “Like I said in the box, I don’t care about the consequences. My priority is protecting you.”

Hearing his love’s words, Patrice knows there are no statements he could make in reply that would accurately convey how grateful he feels to have the unconditional love of this perfectly imperfect man. So, he turns over gingerly, as much as his aching body will allow, and captures Brad’s lips in a kiss. It is gentle, but he hopes the action can communicate the overwhelming gratitude and love he feels for his other half. 

“How would you feel about a reward?” Patrice murmurs when they part for air. “I know you’re going to say you don’t need anything, but I just want some way of showing you how thankful I am for you.” As he says this, he begins running one hand over every inch of Brad’s body, tracing his muscles and his bone structure and leaving a trail of goosebumps on his skin. 

Brad lets out a contented hum as Patrice kisses him once mods, but pulls back panting when he has a moment of realization. “You’re hurt, Patrice,” he points out. “I don’t want you to make the injury worse.”

Patrice smiles down at Brad and kisses his forehead. “What if I promise to be careful?” he asks, his hand running along the waistband of Brad’s boxers. “I don’t need to be as intense as usual to show you my appreciation.” At this, he slips his hand into his love’s pants, and strokes a teasing line from one hip to the other.

As predicted, Brad moans softly at the teasing touch, and buried his face in the crook of Patrice’s neck. If this is what Patrice wants, then who is Brad to deny him. Patrice’s hands feel delightful on his skin, as they always do, and Brad can feel his self control diminishing rapidly. 

“Okay,” the left winger concedes breathily. “Okay. Do what you want, as long as you’re careful.”

Patrice grins in delight at this, and wastes no time getting to work. He pushes Brad’s boxer shorts down and off his hips, kissing him fiercely as he does so. His hands run the length of Brad’s body once more, stopping to administer more dedicated, teasing touches to the spots that make Brad gasp and whine: his chest, his abs, his hips. He continues kissing his other half, to convey his gratitude and leave him breathless.

As Patrice kisses and touches and lovingly torments, he can feel Brad’s body responding. Brad whines and gasps and moans, his muscles beginning to tremble under Patrice’s hands, and his hips jerking involuntarily. All the while, he clings to Patrice, trying his best to be mindful of his love’s injuries while he loses himself in the sensations Patrice is invoking.

When Brad is whimpering and shaking and just on the edge of begging, Patrice decides to stop his teasing. He reaches between them and firmly grasps Brad’s hardened length, provoking a cry of relief that is sure to be heard by their teammates in neighboring rooms. Patrice touches Brad with expert skill, stroking and grasping and moving his hand in a corkscrew motion, his thumb wiping over the weeping slit of him and making Brad’s hips buck sharply. He wants to whisper dirty words in Brad’s ear, wants to murmur his encouragement and appreciation. But, Patrice can tell Brad is having a hard time keeping quiet, and since they aren’t at home where they can be unreserved in their noises, Patrice resorts to kissing Brad until they’re both breathless, swallowing his moans and whimpers.

Before long, Brad is practically vibrating, biting down on Patrice’s lower lip to keep himself quiet. Patrice strokes him more vigorously and holds him more closely, silently letting him know that it is safe and more than okay to fall apart. When he pulls away from kissing Brad to catch his breath, Patrice puts his lips to the shell of Brad’s ear. “Come for me, Marchy,” he prompts. “Let go and come for me.”

Though he acts as Patrice’s protector on the ice, Brad is helpless to do anything other than what his love asks of him. A few more well-timed flicks of Patrice’s wrist, and Brad is done for. He throws his head back and clings to Patrice, unable to stop himself from wailing as his mind goes deliciously blank. Patrice holds him through it, kissing his neck and his cheek and murmuring how much he loves him.

As he rides his high, Brad melts in Patrice’s arms. He rolls onto his back even as he is being held, his body going completely limp. He swears he is seeing stars and his subconscious tries to convince him never to return to reality. Meanwhile, Patrice reaches for a tissue to wipe his hands clean of Brad’s come and turns his attention once again to his other half, kissing him and soothing him and waiting for the ecstasy to subside.

Eventually, Brad’s breathing returns to normal, his body stops trembling, and he opens his eyes. He turns onto his side to find Patrice looking contentedly down at him, and he gives him a soft smile. “Hey,” he murmurs, as Patrice kisses his forehead.

“Hi,” Patrice greets. “Welcome back. Was that okay?”

Brad’s smile widens as he gazes over at Patrice. “Oh god, yeah,” he replies. “That was better than okay. As always.” 

“I’m glad, ange,” Patrice says, rubbing Brad’s back gently. “You deserved it. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Brad breathes. “So much.” He rolls closer to Patrice once more, and kisses him softly. As his love leans into the kiss, the left winger reaches for Patrice’s waistband, but finds his hands being grabbed and stilled.

“Not tonight,” Patrice insists, shaking his head. He kisses the confusion lines out of Brad’s forehead and smiles down at him. “We’ll have plenty of time for that back in Boston. Tonight was about you, though. I wanted some way of showing you how grateful I am that you’re here to protect me.”

As much as Brad wants to protest, to insist he return the favor, he also doesn’t want to do anything to upset Patrice. Besides, he knows he runs the risk of exacerbating whatever injuries his love sustained, and that is the last thing he wants to do. So, he tucks his hands up between their bodies and snuggles into Patrice. 

“You never have to thank me for that,” he murmurs. “Even if you did just blow my mind. I’ll always be here to protect you Bergy; on and off the ice.” 

Patrice can’t help but kiss the crown of Brad’s head at that. “My hero,” he murmurs. “The same goes for you. Je t’aime.”

Brad kisses the underside of Patrice’s jaw. He comes to the realization in the moment, that he doesn’t care how many penalties he draws. If he can come back to Patrice at the end of the day and share this peacefulness with him, every minute in the penalty box is worth it. “I love you, too, Bergy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for reading and indulging me and my plot bunnies. Leave a comment down below if you feel so inclined. I thrive on the positive feedback you all give me. Feel free to come say hi on Tumblr, too. I'm at the same URL there (@thewonderzebra).


End file.
